


One of Us (WIP)

by Lyumia



Series: Born to Die [2]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Aliases, Artistic License, Canon Compliant, Canon Dialogue, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Dialogue Heavy, Dominatrix, Drug Use, Expanded Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Game Spoilers, Gen, Gender Neutral Character, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Music, Obsession, Other, Pet Names, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Roleplay, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Slight Canon Divergence, Stalking, Supernatural Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Werewolves, Work In Progress, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyumia/pseuds/Lyumia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a sire. A father. A creator. A killer.</p><p> </p><p>Based on the characters in Born to Die, but can be read on it's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Us (WIP)

 

> _"Eyes on fire_  
>  _Your spine is ablaze_  
>  _Felling any foe with my gaze_  
>  _And just in time_  
>  _In the right place_  
>  _Steadily emerging with grace"_

Eyes on Fire, Blue Foundation

* * *

 

 "Hot." He hissed, sucking on his finger delicately. One thing he never learned, even in his second life, was that a metal object coming out of the oven burned. And burned his finger did. The cinnamon buns sat innocently on the stove top, steam curling up from the icing coated pastries, moisture beneath still sizzling on the foil. The burning flesh was soothed quickly against his cool tongue, while it's owner frowned down at the treats accusingly. "Did you burn yourself again?" A gentle voice inquired, the other inhabitant of the flat stepping into the kitchen. "Dad?" She pressed, twirling a strand of her velvety brown hair around a slender finger.

"I did." He answered, his finger retreated with an audible pop, coaxing an eye roll from the young woman. "Really, you'd think a 100 year old vampire would remember not to touch a hot pan." She emphasized this by pushing the pan away from him with a towel.

"Actually," he mused distractedly, "We don't remember much from our past lives, unless there's a strong emotion tied to a special memory or set of memories..." He folded his hands underneath his chin, reluctant to tell his adopted daughter more. "And those memories are easier to recall in certain clans, like the Ventrue and Brujahs. Some malkavians come after that, because of their insight, but their 'memories' can be unreliable at best. So even the wisest elder would still be prone to such habits if they still have them."

"And you?" She mimicked his posture, leaning closer. "A Toreador?"

"Me?" He chuckled. "It differs from Kindred, but I remember more of my past than what's considered average." He began plucking the rolls off their pan, ignoring his daughter's protests that the food was still too hot. "Most remember what they loved to do, what they loved and why." He passed her the plate, sitting themselves down at the dinner table.

She ate silently, unperturbed by his unblinking stare on her. "Guinevere." He called. She didn't look up, focusing on unrolling the bun, it's icing dripping onto her fingers and onto her plate. "Do you hate me for what I did?"

"No." Came the answer after a deliberate bite. "I never did." She lied.

* * *

  
 

#  **I Breathe You In**

Days blurred together after so many countless days in the darkness. He was only minutely aware of the light fading outside, sun ducking beneath the horizon as the moon lazily chased after it. It was a slow process. A burn working its way through his veins, frigid despite its searing pain. The cell he found himself in became more distinguished as time passed, a ferocious hunger bubbling in his stomach he never knew he was capable of.

His door opened, the creature walking soundlessly over to where he had been sitting in the cell since the last visit and murmured sweet nothings into his ear. Voice gentle, contrary to the horrific appearance. Cold lips pressed against the side of his face, more murmurs stirring distant memories of a similar voice cooing the same words at him.

He should have died then. By all rights, he should be deader than dead. " _Beautiful_." The angelic voice cooed. Soft lips pressing against his own. Skilled hands tangling themselves into his hair. " _Forgive me child_." The pain he was drowning in increased tenfold before it abated just as quickly as it came.

He started awake, mind racing, clutching his neck. Carmine exhaled, an action rendered completely useless because he wasn't on the verge of panicking. No, it was an old habit that had carried over from his first life, and prevailed through his second less alive life. If Carmine were anything, he was a creature of habit.

True to his nature, he ventured into the locked studio within his apartment, just as he always did after an unsettling dream. The city greeted him when he stepped in, lights resonating brightly against the grey sky and dark mountains in the distance. This room, was soundproof, thankfully. So he was deaf to the roar of cars below (that became increasingly frequent when summer came) his keen ears blissfully unaware of the nightlife beyond the large windows and thick walls. Within the room an array of canvases decorated the wall, portraits, abstract images and nature blended together in a chaotic display, the click of a turntable turned into a steady cascade of string notes, rising and falling with his movements when he lifted a long brush to a canvas.

He could easily spend hours in this room, chasing after ideas in his mind, following their trails or unraveling their yarn, weaving it into his vision.

"Dad!"

Carmine blinked rapidly, snapped out of his trance so quickly it took him minuets to realize he was in his studio, in Los Angeles, not standing before a bloodbath of bodies laying in the snow. Guinevere stood in the doorway, shaking his phone. "Kent's calling."

Kent. He recalled, reality trickled back into his mind. "Its been awhile." He answers, accepting the device with a nod.

" _Of course it has_." The man replied in good humor. " _If I didn't drag you out of the house, you'd be painting for the rest of your unlife. I'm at Venus' place. I spy a few masterpieces out tonight_." Carmine rolled his eyes, knowing Kent wasn't referring to actual artwork. " _I'm sure a few of them wouldn't mind posing for you._ "

"I'll be there." He elected to ignore that last comment.

Confession was a club illuminated by dark red lights, steel cages hanging from aches on the high ceiling. He passed over the massive cross on the floor, the lights within it casting eerie shadows on the faces of patrons. "He-hey!" A girl shuffled up to him, the odor of anxiety betraying her aloof attitude. "You're Kent's friend right?" She brushed a strand of black hair out of her dark eyes. "I'm Patty, Kent's thinking 'bout..." She glanced about nervously before making a sucking noise. "Y'know. Anyway, he's right over there."

He watched the human go, brow slowly raising as he turned to the direction she pointed in.

"Carmine." The charming man welcomed him into the booth with a smile. "I see Patty has introduced herself already." Kent Alan Ryan was different from most Toreadors, opting to spend his time with generally less remarkable company rather than integrate into higher kindred society much to the surprise of others. Nevertheless, he was preferable company to Guinevere at the moment who seemed content to stare at him with a mixture of disgust and admiration from from behind a mask of indifference. The brown haired man waved to a duo of passing women who giggled drunkenly.

"You do like your dark haired women." He mused, spying the proprietor of Confession behind the bar.

"They're the Mona Lisas to my Picasso." Kent defended, shrugging when Carmine gave him his most deadpan stare. "C'mon Minnie, just take a look around. See if you see anything tasty." He pressed.

"That's..." He sighed, rubbing his temples. It was useless to argue with him, he knew, so he complied. Scanning the bar quickly. Usually nothing ever caught his interest. But tonight was different.

It was beautiful. The human bit their pink bottom lip anxiously, hovering behind the red haired girl who laughed noisily with her dark skinned companion. Long strawberry hair tied back with a scrunchie, a cascade of curled pulled over their shoulder and wide blue eye darting about. They walked further into the club, the red head proclaiming how 'awesome' the music was. He couldn't look away from the Adonis, the other shedding her black trench coat in a booth while she spoke to the beautiful creature with a lazy smile. "You're staring." It sat down at the booth, curling up in the coat with a book it had carried underneath his arm. The creature looked so pale in the red light, shadows dancing on it's ethereal features. A pat on his shoulder broke the spell. Kent had gotten alcohol while he was starring- how long had he been ogling? Chugging down the liquid and refilling it. "I knew you had a thing for blondes. She's pretty though, isn't she?"

"I'm not sure she is a she." The were spoken with so deliberately, Kent picked up on his train of thought instantly.

"Hey," Kent grinned leaning on the table. The creature pulled it's dazzling eyes away from it's book. "My friend and I couldn't help but notice you when you walked in," He flirted. "But- no offense- what gender do you prefer?"

The creature tilted it's head, regarding Kent warily. "Male, mostly." He shrugged.

"Mostly?" Carmine snorted at Kent's behavior, wishing he would leave the boy alone.

"Hey, back off buddy, xe isn't interested!" The black haired woman returned, glowering at Kent and guiding her friend away from Kent who sulked back to their booth. "I was just askn'."

"Of course you were." He continued to study the creature, admiring the hesitant (and at times jerky) movements of their hips as they danced to the music.

He became a creature possessed, the shadow behind the kine at night. Any Nosferatu would be impressed by how he managed to tail the kine unnoticed. Xe didn't follow much of a schedule, leaving his motel once the sun set and joining the two women from the first night he laid eyes on hir. Heather Poe liked to party, he discovered, as did Samantha, but she was more concerned about the ethereal creature that joined them nightly. He discovered much. Strangely, the name was the hardest to find. The kine was staying in a motel just on the border of Santa Monica, visiting a college friend from what he could tell from the emails on the kine's computer.

Xe liked to read, owning at least five books in hir travel bag. He ate at the Diner every morning at one, chatted conversationally with Doris who often grumbled about hir bringing out 'grandmotherly tendencies' she never knew she had. He snorted at that, sitting down on the chair in the motel room. He stared intently at the open suitcase on the bed, as he had been for the past hour while thinking of his kine. Hir scent wafted towards him innocently, the limits of his self discipline strained under the temptation. Finally he gave in, sniffing the fabrics within the bag. Oh, it smelled so sweet! He exhaled, burying his face into the clothes. Surely he was a monster possessed by Erato, consumed by his passions until they wore away at the carefully sculpted masks he wore. He trembled, dragging himself away from the cloth that was privilege to hir person. He needed to leave. Leave now. Sort out his thoughts.

He knew where to find Elysium.

The VIP floor of The Asylum was deserted thankfully, most down dancing on the first floor or drinking themselves into a stupor.

The blonde sauntered over, humming a tune and sinking down onto the cushion next to him. "Hello my favorite painter, I don't know whether I should be upset you didn't even stop to say hi to your little girl or make you forget about all your troubles until you can imagine nothing but my sex slicked flesh and the sound of my name rolling off your honeyed lips."

"I'm in no mood to play Voreman." He shuffled away from the twin who closed the small distance he created, leaning on him heavily.

"But you've already got someone else on your mind Painter." Jeanette purred, hooking her fingers into his belt loops. "Someone as lovely as a summer breeze and makes your dead flesh burn hotter than the brand of the name you've got stamped on heart and more..." She laughed, nail sliding over the seam of his pants. "Intimate bits."

"C'mon little red," She cooed, voice dripping with honey and lust. "Play with this kitty, and if you're nice she'll act out your darkest fantasies. All you have to do..." She leaned closer, breath cold on his ear. "Is say yes."

Blue eyes flashed in his mind, wide, innocent. Distant. If resisting his desires- his instincts- were an impossible task before, now it was unimaginable. He needed soft blonde hair between his fingers, he needed to taste pale, salty skin, and sample the sweet nectar of his Adonis. "Yes." He murmured, capturing Jeanette's lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. Their teeth scraped occasionally, but neither minded as they released their inhibitions in the act. She pushed on his shoulders, onto his back. His sephirot would never respond to his kisses so eagerly, nor make the obscene noises his kitten made, purring and moaning under the ministrations of his skilled fingertips. Jeanette understood this, pouting up at him bashfully. "Like this Carmine?" She rolled her hips, sending a delicious wave of pleasure throughout his body.

"Yes," He trembled, imagining another sinful voice and warm flesh. "Keep going." They moved together, loosing themselves to the sensations until they could no longer distinguish which gasp or moan belong to who. "Oh... Carmine..." Jeanette gasped. "Please... inside..."

The fantasy petered when her voice breached the alluring high. "No." He sighed, laying his head on Jeanette's shoulder. "I can't..."

She stilled, and they stayed like that until the demands of their unlife pulled them apart.

Guinevere had a meal prepared for him when he returned home, the glass of vitae warm in his hands. "I'm surprised." He admitted, sipping the blood. "That you would do this for me."

She scowled, pushing back a strand of dark hair that came loose from her ponytail. "It wouldn't do good if you starved yourself with whatever you do when you go out there."

"...Of course."

The next night he found himself at the Asp Hole in Hollywood.

"That's really stalkerish." Ash snorted, eyeing the youth sitting at the bar downstairs. "No, its downright creepy." He settled back down in the chair, pensive. "Please tell me you haven't been following that kine around everywhere."

"Don't-" He swallowed down his anger. "Don't say kine like that." He rubbed his head tiredly, not willing to explain himself to the withdrawn Toreador. "Like he's..."

Ash nodded in understanding, sliding a bottle of whiskey over to him. "I know it won't affect you, but it looks like you need something to drink?" He hesitated. "When was the last time you kissed someone?"

An intimate question among Kindred. "Before I saw hir." He admitted to the younger. "I've mostly been drinking from bags."

"You must be touched starved." The brown haired man muttered, unaware Carmine could still hear him.

"You smell wonderful..." His skin crawled hearing the rough voice speak to his Galatea. Downstairs a Kindred was approaching his darling who looked uncomfortable. "Please leave me alone." His dear kine requested, stepping away from the fledgling who drew closer. "C'mon sweetheart, let me have a little taste..."

He charged in, grabbing the Grengel by the collar and shoving him back. "Go back to your sire." He Dominated the neonate easily, the Kindred stumbling off without further argument. Hir looked at him with wide eyes. Did he use celerity? It didn't matter. He turned to leave, but hesitated. He could say something. Xe was feet away from him, he could... could. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

He looked hir up and down for injuries- injuries, he told himself- before forcing himself to walk away.

"Wait," That soft voice called out. "What's your name?"

"Pygmalion." He answered. He didn't mean to say that- it just rolled off his lips.

"Pygmalion." Xe repeated with a curious expression. "How can I thank you properly?"

He hesitated. Could the object of his affections be so easily obtained. "Your company?"

"Hey, ' _Pygmalion_.'" Ash was downstairs, giving him a knowing look. "If I knew you were gonna ditch me," He put a ring overflowing with keys into his hand. "I wouldn't have offered to let you drink all my booze." He turned to the kine with a smile. "Don't let him stay out till morning, Pygmy here has a bedtime."

A startled, bell-like sound escaped hir throat, a pleased smile stretching across their lips. "I'll have him home before the sun rises."

"I didn't get your name." He began on the way to the parking lot.

"Hmm... I'm Jane Doe."

"That isn't your real name, is it."

"Yours isn't _Pygmalion_. So it's fair." Xe shrugged, sliding into the passenger seat of Ash's car when he opened it for hir. "Lets go to the pier."

The docks were empty, being the middle of the night and nearing winter most avoided the beach around this time of the year. Water too cold at night even for the most daring of surfers. His Jane Doe lead him to the waved, settling down in the sand and gazing out at the dark water splashing the shore. He settle next to hir, appreciating the gentle glow of moonlight on that smooth skin. "Stop staring." Xe admonished, to which he complied. Beyond the fog he could see the lights of a ship and it's reflection in the water. Some thinbloods lingered some distance away, unnerved by his presence. He didn't blame them, after all the prophesied Gehenna most Kindred feared involved an influx of thin blooded vampires.

He was pulled away from his musings when Jane stood, looking down at him with a forlorn expression. "Is this boring?"

"No. I admire someone who can stop and enjoy the view." He answered honestly.

"Such an old man." Xe teased, skipping away, xe bounced up the stairs to the boardwalk with a laugh, challenging him to follow by blowing a raspberry in his direction. Jane entered an arcade, fiddling with the controls of a game before jumping up onto the stained pool table. "What do you do? For a living?"

"I paint." He answered, admiring the contrast of the dark blue shirt against hir pale skin. "Whatever comes to mind. Some I sell or donate to galleries. I own a few. All over the country. Some theatres as well."

Xe slid off the pool table, walking over to a pinball machine whose dark paint was chipping, bits of metal rusting. "What's that like? When you paint."

"Sometimes... it's Hellish. And liberating." He answered honestly. "I feel as if there's some darkness inside of me being shifted onto the canvas, leaving my corrupted soul. Other times I feel loss- the loss of a purpose in my life. Other times I revel in the beauty of the world, it's horrors and it's majesties. All these little things combining together to forma bigger idea, and transitioning that idea from the clutter of my mind and putting it out into the world makes my life... worthwhile." Xe turned around, leaning back on the machine with the same forlorn expression from earlier. "Often," He continued, stepping closer to hir. "I'm faced with the depravity- the monsters in the world, walking around like us, looking like us. Horrible creatures. But then I stumble across someone beautiful. And all the noise fades away. Those monsters, uncaring of who or what they destroy don't seem as terrifying anymore. I, don't feel as terrifying anymore. Art, to me, is living. Creation. Destruction. It's all part of life."

Xe was so close now, eyes half lidded. He could kiss him now, sink his teeth into that neck and leave satisfied. He could do so much to hir. "I don't know why... But something about your voice is... beautiful."

"Thank you." He murmured.

A small growl startled him out of his bloodlust, Jane laughed nervously down at hir rumbling stomach. "Hungry?"

"Yeah." Carmine took hir to the Diner, where Jane seemed right at home, enthusiastically greeting the old proprietor of the establishment. Doris looked him up and down critically. "Y'know dem pretty face types, dearie, don't trust them."

"You wound me Doris." He chuckled, paying for the meal.

"Rich brat." She accused.

"So, you're a rich brat too?" Jane inquired, picking apart the pancakes with their fork. Carmine tried to remind himself not to get distracted by the sight of the syrup dripping down the corner of the kine's mouth.

"I suppose." He shrugged. "I do come from a rich background- as rich as you can be in Russia during those times."

"You're from Russia?"

"Yes. I came here in the 90s, of course when I was younger I traveled the country, where in various states I invested in many projects. How did you find yourself in LA?"

Xe wiped his mouth, pushing another fluffy morsel of pancakes past those beautiful lips. "Oh you know, spoiled brat living off trust funds." He shrugged. "I've got a few million to blow through before I run out of drug money." Xe joked with a wink. They continued their small talk, until the pancakes were gone, even the syrup wasn't spared as he scooped up the sticky liquid and sucked it off his finger, stirring so many depraved and debauched thoughts in Carmine he genuinely thought he wouldn't be able to resist feeding on hir tonight.

"Do you have an email?" Xe spoke up for the first time since they left the diner, halfway in the passenger seat. "I'd like to talk to you again."

"Of course." He wrote it down with a pen and napkin he found in the glove box, finding some perverse enjoyment seeing the sloppy penmanship.

He dropped his Jane Doe off at their motel, the kine promising to text him tomorrow before he watched Jane disappear into the building. Hunger requested his attention, and once more he drove off with a clear destination in mind.

 "Carmine?" The anarch ghoul raised a brow questioningly, but let him inside his Skyline Apartment without any additional comments. His relationship with the Anarchs was considered strange at best, the Brujahs not known for liking Toreadors, but Carmine became an exception, like the Baron of Hollywood. "Who was at the door?" An unfamiliar voice called from the kitchen. The woman seemed surprised by his appearance, some kind of coleslaw sticking to her hands. "This is Carmine. Hannah, Carmine."

"Pleasure." He offered a strained smile. "Am I interrupting?"

"No- well." Paul sighed. "Yeah. You left your thermos here after your last visit."

"I'll be out of your hair." He promised, lingering by the couch in the center of the room. Paul stepped into the kitchen, Heather joined Carmine in the livingroom at Paul's request."Do you and Paul know each other well?" She seemed filled with this nervous energy. "Not particularly well. He's a friend of my friend." He admitted. "I just came for my thermos." And something extra, but she didn't need to know that.

"So late?"

"I... Had a date." He closed his eyes, and apparently, he must have looked pained because Hannah patted his back comfortingly while making understanding noises. Paul gave him his thermos, warm in his hands. He was overwhelmed by a sickeningly familiar sense of deja-vu, but he accepted it with grace, wishing them a good night before retreating to his haven. He spared no greeting to his daughter, locking himself in his studio before drinking the blood within the thermos quickly. The effects were almost immediate, a rush of euphoria that came with feeding, a heat surging through his dead veins, curling his toes. His breath hitched, nearly knocking him off balance. " _Your voice_." Xe whispered, "It's..." A soft hand cradled his jaw. "Beautiful." He clung to the illusion, unable to hold himself back any longer. He claimed those lips with a growl, pushing hir back into the Call of Duty machine. Xe made a startled noise. "Sorry." He exhaled slowly, half lidded eyes admiring the thoroughly ravaged lips of the kine. "You're intoxicating." Wide eyes stared up at him, questioning, but not alarmed despite their frantic breathing.

"That's alright." Their soft voice managed between their pants. "Please. Continue." He smiled, trailing light kisses down from the youth's neck- oh, that deliciously pale and long neck- to their collarbone, sucking on the fair skin exposed to him.

"Not here," He managed between kisses. "Don't think I could... Hold back." He pulled away admiring the red mark left behind.

"Your eyes... Glow." Xe breathed, silenced by another kiss. "Are you scared?" He growled. "Are you scared of me?" Xe didn't answer, he didn't allow it, only allowing short reprieves to inhale before he swooped down onto hir lips again. "I want to eat you, drink you in. I want to know you in every sense of the word. I wanna taste you, my little kine, I want you to join me in a dark dance of death. I want your lives to be mine. I want you to live for me. I want you to breathe for me." He tore off that lovely shirt, latching on to sweet flesh and biting and sucking, his Galatea writhed underneath him. "I wonder what's underneath this cloth, what fruit there is for me to pluck." His nail rubbed the seam running down the middle of hir pants, coaxing a sharp inhale from the beauty. "You'll be mine, won't you. Body and soul. Flesh and blood. Pain... and Pleasure."

With that he sank down on hir, kissing them deeply. "So sweet." He cooed after he managed to pull away. "You're so sweet, my precious kine." He groaned, resuming the kiss. "I love you- I'm consumed by you, will you let me do the same my sweet nectar?"

"Carmine..."

"My beloved..."

"Dad!" Carmine jumped. Taking in his surroundings. He was in his studio, the sky outside his window was dangerously light. "It's almost sunrise." He looked down at himself, a peculiar dampness in his pants. He unlocked the door, staring down at his daughter in confusion. "It's almost sunrise." She sighed.

"I love you." He blurted out, hugging her to his chest.

She stiffened. "I love you too." If she noticed him weeping, she never mentioned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, that chapter title is quite literal.


End file.
